Hurt
by DracoMalfoy456
Summary: Draco Malfoy has a problem. Harry Potter is the only one who cares enough to fix it. Will he be able to save Draco from himself? Does Draco even want him to? Broken and lost, he may have no choice. Deals with drug abuse. R&R Please.
1. Prologue

Summary: Draco Malfoy has a problem. Harry Potter is the only one who cares enough to fix it. Will he be able to save Draco from himself? Does Draco even want him to? Broken and lost, he may have no choice. Deals with drug abuse.

EDIT 5/24/13: So, I've decided to go through the entire story, and edit the whole thing, just adding some things to make the story more sensible. ^-^ Tell me if you see anything that makes no sense to you, and I'll try to fix it. ^-^

Author's Note: Hello everyone. I couldn't sleep late last night, and so I started this. I'm not sure how good it is, as I did write this at like… midnight, but I think it's decent, at least. Also, this is only the prologue. Please tell me what you think about it, and how to improve it. I'm already done with the second chapter, so it should be posted tomorrow, or the next day. This story shouldn't be much longer than 10,000-20,000 word. If you have any suggestions on anything, or any knowledge on rehab centers, and general drug withdrawal, that would be appreciated. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy. :-)  
~DracoMalfoy456~

_I hurt myself today  
To see if I still feel  
I focus on the pain  
The only thing that's real  
_-Hurt, by Nine-Inch Nails/ Johnny Cash

* * *

It all started the day he got the mark. He had been proud, to have the chance to prove his worth. He thought he could redeem the Malfoy name, that they would once again be feared, and renowned.

But he was a fool. He wouldn't redeem the name, but condemn it instead. He had tried his hardest to fix that cabinet, to do his task. At times it seemed impossible, but he had succeeded. If only he had been successful in his other task as well, the important one. He could still remember the pain from his torture.

After that, he lived in fear in his own home. Couldn't even go to the library for a book without spotting a Death Eater, who'd hex and torment him. He hated the Death Eater's with a passion. He was almost glad to go to school, but it didn't stay that way for long.

The school wasn't what it had been. It was dark, filled with evil. And it was entirely his fault. He got glares from everyone outside of Slytherin, and there wasn't a place he could go without remembering that faithful day, last June. He couldn't even step foot on the Astronomy tower without having a panic attack.

When his wand got taken from him, he was left defenseless in a place he was least safe. He was forced to take his mother's wand, a wand that didn't work well for him, leaving her defenseless.

When Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord, he was relieved. He didn't care that he would probably spend the rest of his life in Azkaban; he just wanted everything to be over. But as luck would have it, he managed to escape Azkaban, on the technicality that he wasn't of age when he got his mark, and did his worst crime. His parents weren't so lucky. The kiss for his father, and ten years for his mother. He was alone.

He had thought it would be over. Now the Dark Lord was gone, he could start over. Be a better man. But yet again he was made a fool. He should have known they wouldn't let him do that. That they'd never let him forget.

It had started with glares. He had returned to Hogwarts to complete his final year, which he had missed most of due to his duties, and when he was there, he couldn't pay attention. The glares had soon escalated to insults. The insults had escalated to hexes. And finally, the hexes had escalated to his attempted murder.

It had been an angry young girl, whose parents had been murdered by Death Eaters. She couldn't have been older than 15. He could have stopped her, if he had wanted to, but the truth was, he hadn't wanted to. He was tired. He hated himself, and just wanted everything to be over. So when she cast a powerful cutting charm over both his wrists, making it look like suicide, he didn't resist, or call for help. He had just lain there, until someone had found him, half an hour later, covered in blood, nearly dead.

They assumed it had been attempted suicide. All they did was make him see a counselor for a few weeks, and forgot about him. He didn't mind. He made up lies for the counselor, and they gave him a clean bill of health. The insults got worse. They all knew, what had supposedly happened, and they didn't leave him alone about it, many saying they wished he had succeeded. He agreed.

The only ones not to sneer at him in hatred were the Golden Trio. All they did was ignore him, and watched as he got hexed, and hurt. He always thought what they did was worse than the insults and hexes, since it showed he was less than nothing to them. He wasn't even worth their attention.

He believed that was what drove him to it. He needed an out, but was too afraid of death to kill himself. He had to visit other means, other means to make the hurt go away, make the pain just stop. He got the idea in his mandatory muggle studies class, and decided it was perfect. It would make reality go away, for a while. It would work better than alcohol, they said. So he went out into the Muggle world, during one of the last weeks of school, and acquired his desired poison. And it worked. He felt nothing, only mind-numbing bliss. Reality fell away, all their hatred, and insults. All the pain, and anger, and sorrow. It was gone, for those blissful, peaceful moments. It always hurt more when he woke, and was sober though. But it was worth it, for the momentary peace.

When school ended, he didn't even try to find a job. Who'd have him, an ex-Death Eater? He couldn't deal with the rejection. So he just went to live in his manor, and was soon forgotten. No one cared. No one missed him. It continued that way for years, his only visitor his former friend Blaise Zabini, who only visited him out of obligation. Draco would live for those few visits.

One day, he went too far with his addiction. He hadn't even realized it. He didn't care. He fell into unconsciousness, his last sight of his once best friend hurrying towards him, shouting something he couldn't make out. He fell into that blissful oblivion, and wished he could just stay there forever. Wished he'd never wake again.

Of course his wish wasn't answered. He woke days later to the view of white, sterile walls, and a medi-witch bustling around. They told him nearly died. He wondered why they didn't let him. Due to policy, he was 'asked' to go to the wizarding equivalent of rehab. He resisted, saying he didn't need it. He screamed, and shouted, but they insisted, appealing to Blaise to make it happen, who forced him to go.

That was the day his life changed.

That was the day he re-met Harry Potter.

~XOXOXOXOXOX~

Harry Potter's life had been wonderful after Voldemort demise. Of course, it hurt him to think of those who died, but his life was pretty good, considering. He had an amazing girlfriend, the best friends a wizard could ask for, and a perfect job lined up for him, as soon as he left Hogwarts. Nothing could be wrong.

Except there was something wrong. Something terribly wrong. And of course, that thing started with one Draco Malfoy.

He had noticed the changes in him immediately after he stepped foot on the train. Harry didn't want to fight anymore, so when he first heard Malfoy was returning to Hogwarts, he was apprehensive. He vowed nothing Malfoy did would affect him, even though he'd no doubt be his same old, pratish self. He listened as Ron would rant and rave about Malfoy's return, though he never joined in. He just wanted to forget. He promised to himself on the first of September, that no matter what, he'd ignore Malfoy. He was so sure he'd be the same, and would try to start a fight. That was just who Malfoy was. What he had never expected was that Malfoy would be a shadow of his former self. With shabby robes, tousled, tangled hair, and tired, dead eyes, he was a poor imitation of the proud man he had once been. It shocked and nearly terrified Harry, but he resolved to ignore Malfoy still. He wasn't his concern.

The insults and hexes sent Malfoy's way 24/7 were hard to ignore, but he did, and he got Ron and Hermione to follow his example. Despite his resolve to ignore Malfoy, he would still constantly watch him, and saw as the boy withered into himself. Harry was surprised at how much it bothered him, to see his tormentor of over six years so broken, but he never did anything about it. It wasn't his problem.

When he heard about Malfoy's attempted suicide, he almost went to see him. He didn't believe it. How could Malfoy do something like that? But again, he resisted the urge. Malfoy was nothing to him, just a nuisance. But he couldn't stop watching him, as the blond got worse and worse. To his confusion, he felt sorry for the blond boy, who was wasting away.

Once school ended, he didn't hear from Malfoy again. According to rumors, the young Malfoy was a drug addict, and never left his house anymore. The only one to talk to him was Blaise Zabini. But that was all anyone knew of the young recluse.

Not that Harry cared, because he didn't. He had enough problems of his own. Once he left Hogwarts, he immediately went into Auror training, and quickly rose through the ranks, graduating after only six months, instead of the usual two years. He should have been ecstatic, like his friends, but he wasn't. He hated his work, hated waking up early just to go find more violence, more anger. He had thought it all ended after the war. And so, little under a year after he was placed on a squad, he quit.

The media had had a field day after that one, but he didn't care. He just wanted to be free of the violence, once and for all. But he couldn't just sit around and do nothing, so he went and signed up for healer training, so he could still help people, but not have to see the violence. It turned out that he was quite good at matters that dealt with the mind. After the war ended, many people were left half mad, either from grief, or from torture. It made him feel good to help people like that. And so, a year later, he became a mind-healer. He would talk to patients that needed someone to talk to, and he would help those who couldn't talk due to madness. He had many long term patients, as well as many short term ones. It was tiring work, but he loved it. He would frequently work at clinics outside of Mungo's on his days off.

During this time, he finally asked his long term girlfriend, Ginny Weasley, to marry him. They had been going out for three years consecutively, and half a year before that before the war had started getting worse. Despite this amount of time, he still wasn't sure it was what he wanted. But he went along with it, because it was expected. Besides, he loved Ginny, right?

So they got married, after a month long engagement, and they were happy. They fell into a routine. Wake, eat breakfast, get dressed, kiss each other goodbye, leave for work, come home, eat dinner, go to bed, repeat ad infinitum. It went on this way for two years. And he was happy. At least that was what he told himself. But then his life changed.

Then, he re-met Draco Malfoy.


	2. The Clinic

Summary: The war on the wizarding world has ended, but Draco Malfoy's personal war has only begun. When he almost dies of an overdose, and gets sent to rehab, will he be able to quit his habit? Will Harry Potter, mind healer, be able to save him? Does he even want to be saved?

EDIT 5/24/13: I didn't change much in this chapter, mainly the beginning and end, and rewording things.

Author's Note: Hello again. This is the first chapter. ^-^ Sorry it took so long, I got sick, and wasn't able to go online. I hope this is okay… I'm never very good with dialogue and human interaction in my stories. I'm trying to get better, but I'm not sure if I succeeded… Well, I'd appreciate it if you'd leave a review, and tell me what is wrong, or what you like, or just any random thing you'd like to say. Just so I know people are reading my story. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING. Not the song, not the characters. Hell, I don't even own my own soul. I sold that to Satan for a hamburger. So, as you can see, nothing is mine. So, you can't sue me. Got it?

~DracoMalfoy456~

_The needle tears a hole  
The old familiar sting  
Try to kill it all away  
But I remember everything _

-Hurt, by Nine Inch Nails/Johnny Cash.

* * *

He looked around, fear and dread filling his heart. He didn't want to be here. Here, mere feet from this run down clinic, full of people trying to 'help.' He just wanted to be home, safe and semi-happy, not on his way to the gallows. He looked around desperately for an escape, but there was no use. The steal grip on his arm wouldn't let him go.

He had just been released from St. Mungo's three days ago, under the strong recommendation he go to rehab. However, he initially refused, and went home, since they couldn't force him to go. Why should he go? It's not like it mattered. Nothing really mattered. But, to pushy ex-best-friends, it apparently did, and now he was being dragged forcefully into hell. He knew Blaise hated him, but this was just too much.

"Merlin, Draco, stop struggling! Honestly, it's not that bad, it's only for a few months, and then you can be home again!" Blaise said agitatedly.

"Leave me alone! Go away Blaise, I don't need you, I'm fine by myself! Stop pretending you care, and go! I'll be fine home alone!" He shouted, as his struggles continued desperately. He hated hospitals, and didn't want to stay there for the next three months, being told his addiction was wrong. _It isn't wrong! I need it, why can't they see that? _

Blaise scoffed, "You nearly died, Draco. If I left you alone now, you'd just do it again, and I won't let that happen. Besides, I know you've been using again! It's been what? Three days since you nearly died? So stop being a stubborn ass, and just get in there!"

"Why bother? No one would care if I just died! They'd be glad! Just let me go! Goddammit Blaise!" He struggled harder as they got closer and closer to the front doors. The years of inactivity and drug abuse made him weak and kittenish, which he now regretted desperately.

"I'd care you idiot! This isn't you; you've got to see that! Now stay still, people are starting to stare! Don't make me hex you!"

Draco continued to struggle, but not as much as he had been a minute before. He knew would actually go through with that threat, even though he was lying about caring. He didn't care. No one cared.

As they entered the clinic, his heart rate sped up. He hated this. He wanted to be home. Not here. Anywhere but here. Here, they'd tell him what was wrong in his life, and then they'd take away the only thing that kept him sane anymore. They'd probably hurt him, as well, because of what he was. He hated this.

"Hello sirs. What may I help you with today?" The receptionist, a busty blonde, asked. _As if you don't already know,_ Draco thought bitterly. _Why else would someone be in this hellhole?_

"I'm here to admit my friend." Blaise said, gesturing to Draco, whose arm he still had a firm grip on. If he held on any tighter, his arm would lose its circulation, Draco was sure of it.

"First and last name?"

"Draco Malfoy"

The receptionist looked up at that, and took a quick look at the reclusive blond, before looking back down, and taking a clipboard filled with forms. Draco scowled.

"Very well, Mr.…"

"Zabini"

"Yes. Well, here you go. If there is no next of kin, just write your own name down, and we'll make sure to contact you in case of an emergency. We'd been told he'd be in one of these days, so we've already got a room ready for him. I'll have Janet take him back, if that's alright with you."

"Sure. Take him back. The quicker he gets in, the sooner he can leave, which he desperately wants to do." Blaise said in a slight drawl, beginning to fill out the paperwork. Draco glared at him, almost hating his 'friend', who could be so blasé about this. _Not like it's his life that's going to be changed. _

After a minute of glaring, and sulking, Draco looked at the witch who came up to him with distrust, the smile upon her face so fake; it hurt him to look at.

"Come along Mr. Malfoy, we need to get you settled in." The witch with the fake smile said. He shook his head firmly.

"No thanks. I'm fine, really. I don't need to be here, so I think I'll leave now. I'm really fine, Blaise is just overreacting. I'm fine." Draco babbled, fear filling him as he back away from the approaching witch. He hated it here. Why couldn't he just go home?

"Mr. Malfoy, don't worry, you'll be fine here. All you have to do is sit in a nice room, talk to a few of our counselors, and spend an hour a day in our recreation room. It's not that bad. You'll like it here." The false smile witch said in a fake sugary voice. Draco decided he hated her.

"Thanks, but no thanks, it sounds nice, but I'd prefer to be home, so I'll just be going now," he said in a light drawl, as he backed up more. He got back only five steps, before his way was blocked by two huge wizards. He cursed under his breath.

"Come along Mr. Malfoy, you'll be fine here. You'll be out before you know it." The wizard on the right said. Draco didn't believe him, but could do nothing as they gently pulled him away, towards a hallway, filled with credentials of the Healers and medi-witches and wizards. He looked around desperately, finally letting his gaze land on his one-time friend, who watched him go with a cool-detachment. He left his nearly pleading gaze on him, until he went through the door at the end of the hallway. Then he was all alone once more.

"Come along Mr. Malfoy, your room is just over here." One of the wizards said, tugging him gently to the right. Draco went with him without a complaint. What was the point now? His only hope was escape, and to do that, he had to make them think he was compliant. As they walked, Draco looked around, and sneered lightly at the faded walls, and the bright fluorescent lights. He didn't even know why they used muggle lighting. It was distasteful. All it did was make the aging building look more washed out. As he passed, he could briefly see a room full of people walking around, and playing games. He assumed this was the recreation room.

By the time he reached his new room, he officially hated the place. Though, to be fair, he had hated it before he even stepped foot in it, but now he hated it more, with its broken, beaten furniture, and it's faded wall paper. His room wasn't any better, but it at least had a few personal items, like his silk bed sheets, and comforter. And he had no roommate, though they said that may change. He sincerely hoped it wouldn't. He didn't like others. They didn't seem to like him much either.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, here is your room. I hope you find it to your liking. If there is anything you need, ask one of the medi-witches or wizards. Tomorrow at noon you will be seeing one of our best counselors and Healer. He usually only works three days a week, but has recently started working here full time. He will be your Healer, and your counselor. You will meet with him three days a week for private sessions, and two for group sessions. Now, you should get some rest, and when you wake, you'll be able to meet your Healer. Goodnight, Mr. Malfoy."

With that, the two wizards left Draco sitting there, staring blankly at the wall, his mind filling him with defeat, and helplessness. So, this was to be his life for now on. Sitting on this bed, wondering when his life went so downhill. Obsessing on what he could have done differently. Wishing Blaise hadn't gotten there in time…

Feeling tired, and worn down, Draco lied down, and attempted to sleep, but like always, it wouldn't come. He tossed and turned for hours, before managing to fall into a restless, fitful sleep, broken images of terror and fear plaguing him, like always.

When he awoke an hour or two later, he felt worse than he had in a long while. Weak, tired and overheated, he ran to the small bathroom, and threw up his meager lunch. Shaking, he stood, and rinsed his mouth. Returning to his bed after a few moments of staring at his pale reflection, he sat down, and stared blankly at the wall, trying to make the sick feeling pass.

Suddenly, the door opened, and there stood a figure Draco only saw in dreams and newspaper's these days. The chances that this figure was actually standing in his room was so preposterous, that he was positive he was hallucinating, and the figure would disappear in a few seconds.

But it never did. It just stood there, staring back, almost as if it was as shocked to see him, as he was to see it. A few moments passed, before it came closer, and said two simple words that would change his life forever.

"Hello Malfoy."


	3. Harry Potter's Perfectly Normal Day

Summary: Draco Malfoy has a problem. Harry Potter is the only one who cares enough to fix it. Will he be able to save Draco from himself? Does Draco even want him to? Broken and lost, he may have no choice. Deals with drug abuse.

Author's Note: Just finished writing this. It's currently midnight, and I'm dead tired. If I missed anything, please tell me so I can fix it. The beginning is a bit awkward, but I don't know how to fix it… :/ Also, I added Teddy. ^-^ I wasn't going to at first, because honestly, I forgot about him. _ But, he's in there now. I hope he sounds like a real kid. I haven't been five in ten years, and I barely see my five-year old cousins, or any other five year olds. Also, I have no idea what goes on in a rehab facility, so I'm winging it. If you know anything about rehab, please tell me. I'd love to add it. Otherwise, just assume wizarding rehab is different than muggle rehab. So, please review, and tell me what you think. ^-^ Enjoy, I hope!

Disclaimer: A world of no. J.K. owns these characters. Do I look like a 47 year old British woman? (Don't answer that.) Anyway, no, I don't own HP. I wish I did… Along with the Buffy universe. Having Spike and Draco as my slaves would be so totally awesome, don't you think?

_What have I become  
My sweetest friend  
Everyone I know goes away  
In the end _

-Hurt, by Johnny Cash.

* * *

Harry's day started out normal. He got up, kissed his wife on the cheek, before exiting the door to walk to work, something he liked to do every so often, despite it being a 30 minute long walk.

He walked into St. Mungo's whistling softly, waving hello to his colleagues, and the occasional patient or two. It was a beautiful, normal day.

"Hey, Alice, did you manage to get the files for the Montague case?" Harry asked the receptionist of his department.

"Right here, Healer Potter. According to the file, he believes that he is an alien, and he keeps trying to warn us about 'the attack.' Robert thinks it's merely stress, but he wanted your opinion." she said, passing him the file, which he took with a slight grin.

"Thanks Alice. If you spot my 9 o'clock, make sure to send them in."

"Will do, Healer Potter."

Sending her one last smile of gratitude, he continued his walk into his office, where he set the file down, took off his coat, and sat to deal with some paper work until his next appointment showed up.

Once his paperwork was finished, he saw he had a few more minutes until his 9 o'clock, so he leaned back in his chair, and thought about his life.

Compared to others, he had an incredible life. A nice flat in a good part of town, a great job that you loved, and a loving wife waiting for you at home. Yet he felt something missing. He wanted something... More.

He knew it was stupid, wanting more than what he had- which he should be beyond grateful for- but it didn't stop that part of him that craved the adventure of his younger days. This routine he was in was maddening, and he itched to have something exciting happen, just to break up the monotony of his daily life.

But there was no use dwelling on those thoughts, he thought as he got up to meet his patient. This was his life, and he'd be happy about it, even if it was /slightly/ boring. And even if he wasn't quite sure he loved his wife anymore, and frequently wondered if he ever did. But! he couldn't think these things. They were what he placed in the file in his mind he called "Things One Must Never Dwell Upon" They were stupid, impossible things that weren't true.

And so he went off to his 9 'o clock, blissfully ignoring things that were dangled blatantly in front of him.

Besides, he was happy, right?

~X~O~X~O~X~O~X~O~X~

"Harry!" A familiar voice shouted, as he felt tiny arms wrap around his middle. Grinning, Harry turned, and scooped his Godson up in a hug, holding him tight.

"Teddy! How are you buddy? Did you enjoy visiting America with your Grandmother?" Harry asked the excitable five-year old he was holding, whose hair was currently sky blue. Teddy nodded, and giggled.

"Yeah! Get this, Uncle Harry, we saw a unicorn! It had a baby, and it even let me touch it! I had been very, very quiet, like you tell me to be sometimes, and I walked up to it, and pet its head! Then Grandma came and took me away, telling me not to play with it, but it was still cool!" The boy said in one breath, grinning widely. Harry couldn't help but grin as well. Teddy was just too cute sometimes.

"Really? Wow Ted! That's amazing! Did anything else happen?" Harry asked with enthusiasm, as he looked up at Andromeda, who had just walked up with their lunch. She smiled lightly at him as she took a seat.

"Hello Harry." She said as she sat down, cutting off whatever Teddy was about to say. Just as he was about to complain, she handed him his Happy Meal, which he started digging into with gusto, immediately finding, and opening the toy. Distracted, he didn't pay any attention to the adults' conversation.

"Hello Andromeda. How was the trip? I hear Teddy found a unicorn." Harry said with a grin, and he opened his Big Mac, and reluctantly taking a bite. The food wasn't awful, but after going there every other day, one starts to tire of it.

"The trip was fine. Teddy and I visited many places, starting in New York, and ending in San Diego. He loved going to Disneyworld, and Land, and enjoyed himself immensely at that LEGOLAND place you were talking about. I managed to see a Broadway show, while Teddy was in this late night care group, and was able to see the Grand Canyon. Overall, it was an enjoyable trip." She said, as she took a sip of her iced tea.

Harry grinned. "See? I told you you would enjoy it. Aren't you glad you went?" He asked in a lightly teasing voice. Ever since her daughter and son-in-law died, Andromeda rarely went anywhere, so Harry was glad she took the two month long trip with her only living relative that wasn't in Azkaban, or a reclusive junkie. He frowned lightly as he thought of the blond pain-in-his-arse, but shrugged it off. He hadn't thought of the blond in years, and so he wouldn't start now.

"Yes, yes, you were right. Teddy and I needed the vacation." She said in a haughty voice all Blacks seemed to possess. His grinned widened.

"I'm glad you had fun. Merlin knows you deserve it," he said, his tone soft. Her eyes turned slightly sad, and she turned away.

"Yes, well... 'Dora wouldn't have wanted me to waste away. Nor would Ted. And as long as I have Teddy, I can survive." She took another sip of her tea, trying to cover up the slight shaking of her hands. Harry looked at her with sympathy, but said nothing, knowing it was better to give her a moment.

"Did you hear about what happened to my nephew?" She asked a few moments later. Harry looked up sharply.

"No... What happened?" He asked, not understanding the odd twist in his chest at the mention of her nephew. He decided it was apprehension, since anything to do with Draco Malfoy could only be bad.

"Apparently, he almost died of an overdose. It was all hushed up, so not many know about it, but I thought you might have heard, since you work at St. Mungo's. I only know since I'm his aunt." She said nonchalantly, like what she was saying was just another piece of gossip. But to Harry, it felt as if he couldn't breathe.

He couldn't have explained it if he had wanted to, but it suddenly had felt as if all the air had left his body. He didn't understand why, but hearing that Draco Malfoy, his once hated rival, had almost died made him feel something unknown. Whatever it was, he knew he didn't like it. Trying to push those thoughts away, he turned his attention back to Andromeda.

"Really? How… interesting. Is he-is he alright?" he asked hesitantly, not wanting to sound too eager for the information.

"Yes, he's fine, but he's been asked to go to rehab. It's a shame the boy turned out this way. I always remember him being smart. I only saw him a few times in my life, but I always thought he'd go on to do great things, if only he didn't have the father he did. Oh well, cannot dwell upon missed opportunities." She mused.

Silence engulfed them, as he thought of the blond haired nuisance. That odd feeling in his chest was back with a vengeance, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. _It's just Malfoy. What do I care if he lives or dies? _Harry thought, before shaking his head.

Of course he'd care. No matter how unpleasant he was, Malfoy shaped part of his childhood. He was the one person who never changed. He was confident, and arrogant, and always had to have his way. He provided Harry someone to have petty, childish fights with. Compared with the seriousness of life, Malfoy was always the same, always harmless. He always hated him, and never pretended otherwise. He was always constant while everything in his life was inconstant. While at the time he annoyed the hell out of Harry, looking back it seemed like a harmless rivalry, something he was almost fond of now, having known what it was like to have a real enemy. Maybe that was what the weird feeling in his chest was. He just didn't want Malfoy to die.

As he finished his burger, he pushed all thoughts of Malfoy from his head. He looked at his watch, and got up.

"I've got to get back to work," he said, as he walked around the table to give Andromeda a small hug. "Lunch hour is over, and my boss wanted to meet with me, to go over something." As he let her go, he felt tiny arms attacking his legs, and grinned lightly.

"But Uncle Harry! We just got back, you can't go now!" The blue haired boy whined, looking up at Harry with big, sad eyes. Harry dropped to his knees, mindless of how sticky it was, and gave him a big hug. "Don't worry bud; you'll see me again in a few hours. We're going to have a sleepover, remember? I just have to work now, and later we'll have all day to play, how does that sound?" He asked, as he wiped away the few tears that had slipped past Teddy's eyes. Sniffling, Teddy nodded.

"Okay. I just missed you, Harry. I hate it when I don't get to see you. It makes me all sad." He said in his adorable, childish way that melted Harry's heart every time he heard it. Gently ruffling the boy's hair, he stood up.

"I know bud, I miss you too, and if I could, I'd skip work, but I can't. We'll see each other later though, and you can tell me all about your trip. There might even be some ice cream if you're a really good boy."

Perking up immediately, Teddy grinned, gave Harry's legs one more hug, before skipping up to his grandmother, chattering away. Harry chuckled at the innocence of children, innocence he himself hadn't had it many, many years. He only hoped Teddy never lost that precious innocence.

Waving back at the pair as he left the eatery, he walked over to a dark alleyway, and, making sure no muggle could see him, disapparated to St. Mungo's, and immediately set off to change from his muggle clothes back into his work robes. While it was annoying to have to do this, if Teddy wanted to meet at McDonald's, he wasn't going to complain. As it was, he was just happy to see him a day earlier than he had thought he would due to an early portkey.

Once he was back in his robes, he walked up to his boss's office, and knocked, waiting silently for her to open the door. After a few moments, he heard a muffled, 'come in' and entered the office. He sat down in the chair across from his boss, and waited patiently as she sorted through the papers on her desk. A minute passed before she looked up.

"I think you know why you're here. Recently, our head Mind-Healer has gone on maternity leave, and we just found out she will not be returning, preferring to stay at home with her husband and child. Now, that leaves us with a spot open, and I want you to be the one to fill it. _But_," she said, right before Harry could get too excited. "While you are one of our best Healer's, you are still pretty new here, and the board wants you to complete three months of community service before we give you the job. We will be sending you to the Renalda Masters Rehabilitation Home. You already work there three days a week, yes? They need a new counselor and Healer, and the board thought it would be a perfect place for you to work on building your skills. These people are broken, and need help getting back on their feet. Now Harry, what do you say?" she asked, leaning back against her chair.

Harry didn't know what to say, and told as much. "Uh, I'm not sure. I suppose I could, but who would care for my patients?"

"Your replacement. If you get the job, someone will have to take your old one. If you do decide to take the offer, you will start tomorrow, at 7. You will get the files of the patients then, and will most likely have to take out a room there, as many of the patients are recovering drug addicts, and have nightmares most nights. If this is something you'd like to do, please tell me by the end of the day. I'm sorry for the short notice, but the position just opened up, and I thought it'd be perfect for you"

"Of course. Thank you, Miranda. I'll be sure to think this through." He stammered slightly, still in shock over the offer. His boss smiled lightly, before waving him off. Getting up, he thanked her one more time, before leaving her office.

As he went through the rest of the day, he thought the offer, and decided to go for it. What was the worst that could happen? So he would have to live somewhere else for a few months, it wasn't like he and Ginny hadn't spent time apart, especially during Quidditch season. Right before he left for home that night, he told his boss he accepted the offer, and would show up at the clinic tomorrow at 7. Grinning, he went home, and told his wife, who kissed him in congratulations. They would have gone further had they not had to watch Teddy, but Harry didn't mind. He loved it when Teddy was over, as it made the house less dreary. That night as he drifted off of to sleep, he couldn't help but feeling his life was about to changed drastically. So much for his perfectly normal day.

~X~O~X~O~X~O~X~O~X~

The next morning dawned clear and cloudless. A beautiful day, to anyone but Harry Potter. He had gotten a little over three hours of sleep, having spent most of the night up with Teddy after he had a bad nightmare, and refuse to go back to sleep. Nothing helped, and so Harry stayed up with the boy he loved like he was his own, playing games, and trying hard not to fall asleep. Now, as he blearily drank his coffee, he definitely felt that lack of sleep. But it was his first full day at the clinic, and couldn't fall back asleep. Sighing, he drained his coffee, poured himself another glass, and got up to get ready for the day ahead of him. He only hoped he didn't have much to do that day.

Once fully dressed, and moderately more awake, he walked outside and apparated to the place that might be his home for the next three months. Since he wasn't positive, he had decided against packing until he was sure they wanted him to stay there.

When the feeling of being squashed into a small tube stopped, he walked up to the receptionist, smiling as brightly as he could this early.

"Good morning Patricia, how are you today?" Harry asked politely. She flashed him a small, what he assumed was supposed to be flirtatious smile. The one thing he hated about this place was this woman would never take no for an answer, not even caring he was married. He wouldn't even give her a chance if he wasn't. She had fake blond curls, pressed on eyelashes, and pounds of make-up. She wasn't his type at all.

"Good morning Mr. Potter. I am very well this morning. How are you?" She asked, shoving her breasts out at him, trying to make him stare at them. Harry never understood why woman did that. They were just pieces of fat, what was the big deal?

"I'm very tired. Spent most of the night dealing with my Godson's nightmares. Hardly got any sleep. Now, can you tell me where Mrs. Masters is? I am going to be working here for the next few months, and would like to know what to do." He said semi-awkwardly, wanting to be away from this woman as soon as possible.

"Of course Mr. Potter. Renalda is in her office, just go on in." She said, flashing him a blinding smile, before going back to her work. Relieved, he walked over the office, and knocked. He entered a moment later after he heard the muffled 'come in'

"Hello Mrs. Masters." Harry said nervously, even though he and Renalda got along quite well. If he had to compare her to anyone, he'd said she reminded him of Mrs. Weasley, having the same kind-hearted nature. She was in her 70's, and was as kind hearted as they came. She had started the clinic 20 years ago with her husband, and it was now one of the best rehabilitation facilities in the Wizarding world. She had silver hair, and was thin as a twig.

"Harry, how many times must I tell you to call me Renalda?" Harry just grinned sheepishly, as she clucked her tongue. "Anyway, I'm very glad you'll be working here full time for a little while. I hope you won't mind staying here, our usual full time healer and counselor is going on vacation, and we need someone here to make sure none of the patients wake up in the middle of the night, and try anything."

"No, I don't mind. I didn't bring any of my stuff though, so..." He trailed off, a light blush on his cheeks.

"We'll show you your rooms now, and you can get your stuff later, don't worry. Now, this is Alan's last day here, so he'll be able to help you out today, and tomorrow you'll be on your own. Here are your patient files, be sure to go over them, and be familiar with them. You have eight old patients, and one new one. We may have another new patient, but he hasn't confirmed if he'll be coming or not. His file is still in there, just in case. Now here is Alan, go off with him, and he'll get you familiarized with the facility, and the other patients. Good luck dear." Finished, she turned back to her desk, while Harry picked up the files, and followed the man named Alan.

As he walked around, he realized that the place was a lot bigger than he had thought. Before, he had only been in the recreation room, and sometimes in a group session room, but there were many other rooms Harry hadn't known about, including a small gym that had a treadmill, an exercise bike, and a few dumbbells. There was also a small library, a dining hall, and multiple solitary rooms for people who were suicidal, or potentially homicidal. All in all, it was nice little place, even if it was in need of some modern decoration. Finally, the tour ended, and he was able to go to his room. Once there, he immediately collapsed on the bed, groaning lightly. He wanted to take a quick nap, but thought it would probably help to read through the files.

Spreading them out of his bed, he started with the eight current patients. He separated them into two groups, recovering drug addicts on the right, and recovering alcoholics on the left. Three files went into the right pile, and four went into the left. The remaining two were recovering from both. Then, he went onto the confirmed new patient, who went into the left pile. Once he was certain he knew enough about the patients, he moved onto the unconfirmed patient. He gasped, and dropped the file as soon as he opened it, the familiar blond staring up at him.

Groaning, he picked the file back up, and ignored the way his heart sped up as he saw the way Malfoy looked. Even though his face was sunken and sallow, he still looked as hot as ever. _How the hell does he manage that? _Harry thought, before going back to the information. Apparently, Malfoy had been a heavy drinker most of his last year at Hogwarts, only to start doing heroin near the end of the year. Since then, he'd spent most of his days high, holed up in his manor, with nothing but memories and his demons as his company. Every so often his friend Blaise would visit, but as he had his own job with dealing with travel, he wasn't able to come over very often. As he read the file, Harry couldn't help but feel sorry for the blond man, who obviously had a few mental issues, and no one to be there for him. _Maybe I should have tried to help him that last year…_

Putting down the file, Harry put his head in his hands. He could only hope that Malfoy decided to come to rehab. He wouldn't make the same mistake he'd made his 'eighth year.' He'd help Malfoy this time, so help him Merlin. It made something in his chest stir painfully when he thought of how pathetic the blond had become, and was determined to change that. This in mind, Harry got up, and left his room to get acquainted with his fellow healers and counselors.


	4. The Meeting

Summary: Draco Malfoy has a problem. Harry Potter is the only one who cares enough to fix it. Will he be able to save Draco from himself? Does Draco even want him to? Broken and lost, he may have no choice. Deals with drug abuse.

Author's Note: … Before you start reading, I apologize for this chapter. _ It's the first meeting, and it's… terrible, in my opinion. It's awkward, and just… Egh. I tried fixing it, but nothing I did helped. The second half shows more about how Draco feels for Harry, and I hope that was decent, at least. I'm already a quarter of the way through the fifth chapter, and it's about Harry again. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Teddy will appear, so I hope you'll like it. Also, tell me, would you like Romione, or no Romione? Honestly, I'd prefer NOT having to write Romione, as I despise it with a passion, but I'll write it if y'all want.

Please, PLEASE review! I need reviews to live. They nourish me. Also, without them, I have no idea if y'all even like this story… So please, PLEASE review! If you don't review, I'll still post, but I'd prefer to know what you guys think. That is all.

OH! And this starts off where Chapter two ends. Chapter three is kind of like a flashback to show Harry's day.

Disclaimer:  
Me: *Runs up to Draco, and throws my arms around him* I own you!  
Draco: What the Bloody Hell are you doing you filthy muggle?! Unhand me!  
Me: But you are mine! Forever and always, surely you must see that!  
Draco: *Pulls out his wand, and hexes me* Stay the hell away from me, you nutter! *Walks off, muttering about how 'his father will hear about this.'*

… So, yeah. I don't own anything. ^-^

_And you could have it all  
My empire of dirt  
I will let you down  
I will make you hurt _

-Hurt, by Johnny Cash.

* * *

"Hello Malfoy" Harry said as stood in front of Draco, looking down at him. He was caring a pen, and a clipboard. He waited for Draco to talk before saying anything else.

Silence engulfed the pair, as they just stared. Finally, Draco came out of his daze.

"_Potter?_ What-What the hell are you doing here?" He asked, shock still coursing through him, and he wasn't quite sure what to do. He tugged on his blankets lightly, as he looked around the room, most likely looking for an escape. Harry wrote a note on the clipboard.

"Yes Malfoy, it's me. I'm going to be your Healer for the next three months. I hope we're old enough to get past our past differences? I'm here to help you." Harry said straightforwardly, as he came around to sit in a small wooden chair.

Draco's eyes narrowed slightly in distrust. "Why should I believe you? You've always hated me, why would you stop now?"

"Because you are my patient, and I am nothing if not professional. I will keep my personal life and issues away from this, and I hope you can too. I only want to help, Malfoy." Harry said patiently, as he leaned over Draco to look into his eyes, to see how dilated they were. Draco jerked away from him.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked with panic in his voice, looking almost terrified. His eyes were wide as he stared at Harry.

_Interesting..._ Harry thought, as he saw the wild look in Draco's eyes.

"Don't worry Malfoy, I'm just checking your eyes. I needed to see how dilated they are, to see how much of the drug is still in your system. Malfoy, when was the last time you used?"

"Uh... Yesterday." Draco said, eyes darting around the room rapidly.

Harry raised an eyebrow, and marked something on his clipboard. "Didn't you almost overdose three days ago?"

"Yeah, so?"

Harry frowned, as he looked at Draco, who was now staring at a stain on the wall, fidgeting lightly.

"Does that not bother you? That you almost died?"

"No."

Harry frowned again, and marked another thing on the clipboard. He leaned back into his chair, studying Draco. A few minutes passed in silence before Draco looked over to Harry, his eyes wild, and pupils small.

"Could you stop staring at me? Don't you know it's rude?" He asked, as his hands clenched around his blanket. Harry continued to stare. "If you stare, you get hurt, and you don't want that, so stop it!" he shouted, as he rambled on and on about how staring is bad. When he started to scratch at his left arm hard enough to draw blood, Harry got up, and held Draco's arms down at his side trying to calm him, which made Draco start to thrash about, screaming nonsense. After a few minutes, he stopped moving, but just stared blankly at the wall, his lips moving, but no sound coming out. Harry looked at Draco with confusion and concern in his eyes as he marked one last thing on his clipboard, before leaving the room.

So far, from what he could tell, Draco had more problems than just withdrawal. While the meeting could have gone better, it could have gone worse. As he turned the corner, he ran into one of his fellow Healers.

"Oh! Healer Potter! You are needed in MacPherson's room. They need to move him to solitary confinement, he just tried to hurt his roommate."

"Thank you, Healer Fay, I'll be right there" He said, as he walked quickly to his room to put his clipboard away, before darting back out again. Well, at least one thing could be said about working here; it won't be boring.

~X~O~X~O~X~O~X~O~X~

As Draco stared at the wall, he thought about his life, and more importantly, the role Potter played in that life.

It all started when they were 11. At the time, he had no idea the boy he was talking to was The-Boy-Who-Lived, one of the most famous people in the Wizarding World, the one he longed to be. When he met him again on the train, he had been overjoyed. Of course, he didn't show it, but he wanted to be this boy's friend, and not only because he was famous. There was just something about him that called to Draco.

But, of course, Potter turned down his offer of friendship for The Weasel's. That stung. He had always gotten everything, and now the one thing he wanted most was out of his reach. It wasn't fair, he thought. But he covered his hurt, and decided if the Potter boy was too good to be his friend, he'd have to have him as an enemy instead.

And that started years of hatred, petty fights, and harmless curses and hexes. It was so juvenile. Sometime during all of that, Draco started feeling more for the scarred brunet than blind hatred. He tried to ignore it, but never seemed to be able to stop the thoughts. And that made him hate Potter more.

In their sixth year, Draco just stopped caring. He knew Potter was following him, he just didn't care enough to stop him. To be honest, a part of him wanted to be caught, as Azkaban was surely better than this hell. The feelings wouldn't disappear though, and he had many fantasies that included the Boy Wonder. Though he'd never admit it, even to himself, he used to long for the dreams, so they'd offer him a reprieve from life. In those dreams, life was prefect. He had the boy he cared for wrapped in his arms, his family was safe, and he finally had a place where he belonged, where he felt completely safe and loved.

Then the war ended, and everything changed. Draco had hoped things would be better, that he'd finally be free to make his own decisions, live his own life. Maybe even become friends with Potter. Maybe even more.

But things never turn out as he wanted, not anymore. When he finally left the safety of his room, the only place he felt even remotely safe, he found the Wizarding world wasn't tolerant to him at all. And the worst was Potter.

After years of being around each other, of hating each other, cursing each other, after all those years, he just ignored him. That hurt Draco the most. He could take insults, hexes, anything Potter threw at him, but silence? That showed he didn't care, not even enough to hate him. Potter was indifferent to him. And it hurt.

When everything became too much, and he went to other sources to keep his fragile sanity intact, the one constant thing in his mind was Potter. He would read the paper every once in a while, and every once in a while, he'd find an article about Potter, about his perfect life, his perfect job, his perfect everything.

Sometimes, when he was sober, Draco would hate Potter, deeply and truly, more than he had as a child. Here Draco was, alone, nothing to show, while Potter was out there, not a care in the world. Probably never spared a thought for his old enemy, too self-absorbed to care. Draco knew he was being bitter, and spiteful, but he didn't care. It just hurt so much.

It was a vicious cycle. Draco would think about Potter, or his pathetic life, the pain became too much for him to handle, and so he'd shoot himself full of heroin, and let it all go. Once sober, this process would repeat, until soon he didn't even need a reason to get high; he'd just do it to feel something in his purposely numb life.

Through all this time, Draco stayed in his room, barely venturing out into the rest of the house in fear of the demons that lived there, popping out at him when his back was turned. He lost touch with everyone, everyone but Blaise, who would never leave him alone. Probably to get a good look at how pathetic Draco had become, he always thought.

As more and more secluded he became, the more he focused on Potter. In the brief times he managed sleep, he'd dream entirely of Potter, mostly of when Potter had saved him. He could remember every detail of that night, from the blazing fire, to the look in Potter's bright green eyes. He'd often change the ending, in his dreams. Instead of running off, he'd stay, and help Potter win. He'd confess the feelings he had, and they'd live happily together.

And now, their relationship had taken another turn. From potential friends, to enemies, to nothing, and now, to Healer and patient. Seeing Potter in the doorway was like a dream come true. In all the years, Potter hadn't changed much, still having his slightly boyish looks, his unruly, 'recently shagged' hair, his round, thick glasses. He was the same, and he was still as beautiful as Draco remembered. The feelings he really hadn't felt in forever except in dreams came back with fervor, and for once, he could feel. It didn't last long, the brokenness and paranoia filling him again. He couldn't help it. After everything, paranoia was what kept him alive.

He knew that he'd be seeing Potter again. After all, he was his Healer, right? Maybe after meeting with Potter for a while, he'd be able to feel more than numbness. That thought relieved and terrified him. Relieved because he hated the nothingness he felt. Terrified because the nothing was what kept him sane. If that was gone, what did he have?

No matter what happened here, Draco's oblivious lifestyle was now over, and he had no idea where he would be going. Terror filled him, as he stared at the wall, the unknown more terrifying than anything anyone has ever faced. And from now on, everything was unknown.

* * *

Author's Note, Part two: REMEMBER, REVIEW! :D Even if you hated it, I'd like to know what you think.


	5. Broken Man

Summary: Draco Malfoy has a problem. Harry Potter is the only one who cares enough to fix it. Will he be able to save Draco from himself? Does Draco even want him to? Broken and lost, he may have no choice. Deals with drug abuse.

Author's Note: So, I finished this quickly… I couldn't sleep last night, and just started writing, and didn't stop until this was all done… Well, I hope you like it. I think it's pretty good. It talks more about Draco's mental problems. Someone told me not to forget about Draco's physical symptoms of withdrawal. Yeah… I didn't forget about them, but I'm not writing about them, other than one sentence. Not right now at least. Maybe I will, if I do another Draco chapter.

If you see any mistakes, please review. Seriously, I need reviews, even if you don't like it. They are needed, and appreciated. I'll still write if you don't review, but it makes it more worth it.

Oh, and no Teddy in this. As I said, I sort of started writing, and it got a mind of its own… but we do get to see Ginny, briefly. ^-^

Disclaimer: One day, when I'm big and strong, I'll march up to J.K. Rowling, and force her to give me the Harry Potter series. And then, I'll spend the rest of my miserable life behind bars, for daring to touch our queen. ^-^ For now though, I own nothing. :-)

_I wear this crown of thorns  
Upon my liar's chair  
Full of broken thoughts  
I cannot repair _

-Hurt, by Johnny Cash.

* * *

Harry awoke with a groan, rubbing his now aching back. One thing that he hated about this clinic was how uncomfortable the beds were. He'd have to see to getting a new mattress.

Getting up, he entered the tiny bathroom that came attached to his bedroom. Walking over to the sink, he splashed some cold water on his face, trying to wake himself up. After a second of staring at his reflection, he grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste, and started his morning routine. 30 minutes later, he exited the bathroom, his hair dripping.

He went over to his closet, and stared at his wardrobe, not quite sure what he should wear. Back at home, Ginny tended to pick out his outfit for the day, as she had much better fashion sense than him. Finally deciding on a black robe with a white button up, and dark brown trousers, he left for the cafeteria. Grabbing bacon, eggs and a couple pancakes, he went over to a table filled with his fellow Healers, not paying mind to the dozen or so patients that were shuffling around, picking at the food, trying not to look for the blonde hair of his once rival.

It was the same as it had been for the past three days, he thought as he smiled idly at something one of the Healers whose name escaped him had said. He had only been here for a few days, and already he was forming a pattern. Great.

One good thing about today was that Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Teddy were coming to visit. It was Sunday, and that was visitor day, where the patients and Healers were able to have family visit. While he missed Ginny, he felt happier about the fact Teddy and his friends were visiting than the fact his wife was. Perhaps that was a bad thing, but Harry refused to think about it. He just hadn't seen his friends in a while, and he always loved seeing Teddy. That was all.

Just then, a flash of blonde appeared, forcing Harry to look up against his will, and stare at the former Slytherin. He frowned as he saw him on the food line, arms wrapped around his stomach, and looking at the food with a vacant expression. The man had certainly been experiencing withdrawal, barely even making it out of his bed for the past few days due to chills, and fevers, and cold sweats. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't concerned, but there really was no real reason. Many patients went through withdrawals much worse than Malfoy's. It was probably because he knew him.

He got jolted out of his Malfoy induced thoughts, when one of his new friends here asked him a question. He answered, and got pulled into a conversation about Quidditch, but his mind kept drifting off to Malfoy, and their two meetings. The first was a disaster, and the second wasn't much better, ending with Malfoy screaming non-sense when he'd tried to check his vitals. They hadn't even gotten to talking, only the usual 'Malfoy' and the answering 'Potter' He hoped the next meeting would go better. He'd be sure not to touch Malfoy, and just talk. Luckily, their next meeting was going to be in one of the counseling rooms, not in Malfoy's private room, allowing the conversation to take place in a less intimate and personal setting.

As his eyes drifted back to the shining blonde head, which was currently sitting alone at an empty table, he felt yet another stab of guilt, knowing he could have prevented this, if he had just gone with his instincts, and helped the man out when he had first needed it. But there was no sense dwelling on past mistakes, he thought with a sigh, picking at his food. He just couldn't help feeling for the blonde. Forced to be a Death Eater at the tender age of 16, having to either kill or be killed, dealing with consequences of actions he had no real choice over... It was hard not to feel sorry for him, especially if you could see him now, sitting alone at his table, head down, eyes adverted, a far cry from the prideful stance he used to carry. It made Harry's heart ache, filled with the longing to take the hurt out of his ex-rival.

_And if that wasn't a disturbing thought…_ Harry thought as he shook his head, filing it away into his mental folder of 'Things One Must Never Dwell Upon,' never to be thought of again. It was bad enough just the sight of the blonde did funny things to his stomach; he didn't need to be thinking about fixing all Malfoy's problems. It was just unnatural.

Finishing his last piece of bacon, he excused himself, and rose from the table. He walked out of the dining hall, and into the Healer's staff room, where he sat at one of the tables, pulling out his patients files, deciding to do some work while he waited for his family and friends. He needed the familiarity right about now.

~XOXOXOXOXOX~

"Harry! How have you been, mate?" He heard the familiar voice of his best mate call out. Harry looked up, and grinned as he saw Ron rush up to him. Standing, Harry met Ron with a hug, clapping him on the back once.

"Ron! It's been forever! I'm fantastic. This new job can be tiring, but it can be rewarding too. How have you and 'Mione been?" Harry asked, his face still split in a wide grin. Ron grinned back, as he took a seat in one of the chairs in the family room, which was a large room filled with tables, surrounded by family of patients and Healers. With a discrete look around, he saw his blonde patient sitting with his head down, as Blaise Zabini talked at him. Facing Ron again, he sat down, right as Hermione walked in.

"Harry! It's great to see you!" she said, taking a seat next to Harry, and not next to Ron, like usual. Harry frowned.

"Is there something wrong?" He asked, seeing the tension between his two friends. Ever since the end of the war, Ron and Hermione had been seeing each other on again, off again. He assumed that now was one of those "off again" moments.

"No, no, just a... Small tiff. Nothing to worry about," Hermione said, a slightly forced smile on her face, "Tell us, what have you been up to? Do you like it here? Are your patients treating you well? Is there anything you need?" she asked rapidly, barely giving Harry time enough to blink. He gave a small laugh, before answering.

"_Yes,_ I like it here. Yes, they're treating me fine, no, I don't need anything. Mostly, I've been treating my patients, and that's about it. That's about all I can do, honestly. There's not much to do here."

"Well, as long as you're happy..."

"I'm fine, 'Mione! Honestly. Now, where's Gin? I've missed her." Harry lied, feeling guilty when he realized it was, indeed, a lie. Why hadn't he missed his own wife? He had always missed her when she went away before... Maybe it was just because he was busy.

"Oh, she told me to tell you she'd be late. Something about being held back in training." Ron butted in, before looking around the room. "You know, for one of the more successful rehab facilities, it's very shabby... You'd think they'd have revamped it." He said, before his eyes landed on the cause of Harry's inner troubles. Harry watched apprehensively as Ron's eyes nearly doubled in size, before he doubled over in laughter, catching the eyes of many of the other table's occupants, including the blonde in question.

_"Malfoy?!"_ Ron managed to gasp after a few moments, a grin still on his face. Harry looked wearily at his patient, only to see him completely tensed up, his face carefully blank. "What is Malfoy doing here? Finally realized his life's a pathetic mess, and needed help? Like anyone would care to help him, the little ferret." He said loudly. Harry watched as Blaise stood up, and took a step towards them angrily, only to change direction when he saw Malfoy get up, and rush from the room, his head down, arms wrapped around his middle. Harry felt yet another wave of pity pass through him as Malfoy hurried away, his chest clenching almost painfully. He also felt a stab of anger at his friend for being the one to cause his patient distress. By the look on Hermione's face, she felt the same.

"Ronald Weasley! How dare you?! I know we hated him in school, but that gives you no right to go make fun of him now! We are adults, not children. Honestly!" she huffed, glaring at Ron. Ron gaped at her, before trying to reason that 'the git deserves it!' After a few moments, Harry slipped out of the room, satisfied that Hermione would deal with Ron, and set off to find the young Malfoy.

It didn't take him long, since the blonde had collapsed against the wall outside the family room, his head in his hands, his breathing sporadic. Zabini sat beside him, mumbling something softly to him, to which Malfoy shook his head, replying back with an angry, despairing tone. Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, making the pair look up at him. Malfoy met Harry's eyes for a moment, before turning his eyes away, putting his head back in his arms. Zabini scowled at him.

"What do you want?" he asked in a tone so cold, Harry could have sworn he just got frost bite. Gathering up his Gryffindor courage, he walked over to the duo, and kneeled on the other side of the blonde, causing him to wrap his arms tighter around himself, as he kept muttering words Harry couldn't make out. Harry suddenly felt very guilty, even if it wasn't him who said those things. Maybe if he'd told his friends beforehand that Malfoy would be there, and to not bother him, Ron wouldn't have made a scene, but the thought never crossed his mind.

"Mal- Draco is my patient, and I'm here to help him." He said bravely, trying not to let the icy stare intimidate him. He'd faced Voldemort, for Merlin's sake. He could handle an irate former Slytherin.

"You weren't helping him much before, when your friend said those things about him. Do you know how often Draco thinks that about himself? He doesn't need your pet Weasel adding on!" Zabini said hotly, his face twisted in anger.

"Look, I know what Ron said was wrong. I cannot apologize enough for what he said. You must know I don't agree with a word he said. I care about Mal- Draco. I will help him get better. If I had thought Ron would say that, I'd never have brought him here." Harry rambled slightly, as the guilt spread. Zabini's glare lessened, but was still sharp against him as Harry leaned forward to talk to Malfoy.

"Malfoy? Draco? Can you please lift up your head and talk to me?" Harry asked in a soothing voice, being careful not to touch Malfoy in case he spooked him. Malfoy continued to keep his head down, not acknowledging he even heard. Harry was about to talk again, when he heard Zabini talk.

"Draco?" He said in a soft, soothing voice. "Draco, lift up your head, Healer Potter wants to talk to you. He's here to help you. He cares about you."

His body shaking slightly, Malfoy shook his head, and muttered something Harry couldn't make out. Zabini seemed to understand though, since he continued talking.

"That's not true Draco, he does care. We both do. Would you stop being the stubborn ass I know you are, and lift up your head?"

Lifting his head slightly, He glared at Zabini. "Stop lying. You don't care. No one cares. Just leave me alone. Whatever you want from me, just take it, and go. Just leave me in peace." he said harshly, his voice slightly hoarse from the lack of use it usually got, added with the screaming he'd been doing recently. Harry wondered how it was possible his one-time rival could stir up these emotions in him, leaving his chest aching, as he longed to just gather Malfoy up in his arms until his hurt went away.

"Draco, he's not lying. He cares, and I care. We want you to get better, and you have to know that what Ron said in there wasn't true. People do care. Your life isn't a pathetic mess; it's just a little off track, which is why you're here. I'll help you get back on track, if you'll let me. I just want to help you." Harry said softly, reaching a hand out to touch him lightly on the shoulder. Malfoy flinched horribly, and scrambled away from him.

"Don't touch me! Y-you don't have permission to touch! L-leave me alone! Just go away!" Malfoy screamed, clawing at his hair, rocking back and forth slightly, as he started muttering to himself once more. Harry stared helplessly at him, as the other Healers and aides came rushing in, the screaming having attracted them.

"Healer Potter! Do you need help?" One of the younger aides asked, looking at Malfoy with a wary look on his face.

"I... No, I've got it handled. Everything is fine. Go back to your families." Harry said firmly. After a few seconds of hesitation, the others headed back into the dining hall, leaving them alone once again. Harry turned to Zabini, who was looking at Malfoy with his own helpless look. It made Harry feel bad for him, as well, since he had to watch as his best friend fell apart, not even able to handle the simplest touch without going insane. If that ever happened to Ron... Harry couldn't even think about it.

"What should we do?" Harry asked Zabini quietly. He didn't want to do anything to make Malfoy more upset, and the person who'd best know how to handle him in one of these states would be Zabini.

"Usually, whenever he gets like this, I let him get it all out of his system, and once he's worn out, I lead him back to his room gently. Only then does he let anyone touch him."

"Why doesn't he like people touching him? It didn't say on the file." Harry asked softly, looking back the Malfoy, who was still tugging on his hair, shaking his head, muttering to himself.

"During the summer after our sixth year, Draco was practically a prisoner in his own home." Zabini said after a moment's hesitation, "His father had fallen from grace, and he had failed his one mission from You-Know-Who, and wasn't trusted with a second. That left him a target for most of the other Death Eaters, particularly ones who had a problem with his father. He was used as target practice frequently, and by the time school started, he had more scars, cuts and bruises than I could count. He refused to talk about how he got them, though. He was subdued more often than not, only talking when spoken to, and rarely joining in with the other Slytherins as they tormented the other houses. In fact, because of that, he got ridiculed by our housemates as being weak, which lead them to hexing Draco as well. While he was subdued during this time, he still was himself, and wouldn't mind the occasional touch from Pansy, when she decided to sit with us and could talk comfortably with me. But after Christmas break... It was like he was someone else. He shied away from all touch, even accidental brushes. I asked him about it, but he refused to even acknowledge he did it, saying I was imagining things. He rarely talked anymore, and was always looking around wide eyed whenever a loud noise sounded. After the war, it only got worse, and then he shut himself away in his manor..." Zabini shook his head sadly, watching his best friend as he had his nervous breakdown.

"He let his fear eat him alive. He was always a bit paranoid, but after all that time alone in his house, it manifested until he couldn't trust anyone. Add in his heroin addiction, and you've got yourself one fucked up person." Zabini finished, letting out a small sigh.

Harry took in all the information, and looked sadly at Malfoy, who was beginning to calm down. He had never known. After the war, he hadn't thought for a second Malfoy would have it so bad. He always assumed he just stayed out of the way, kept his head down. But this... He shook his head, and moved slowly towards Malfoy, who was now staring blankly at the wall again, his lips moving soundlessly.

"Come here Draco, we need to get you back to your room." Harry muttered to him, hesitantly touching his arm. When Malfoy made no move to pull away, Harry got a firmer grip, and gently hauled Malfoy into an upright position. With the blonde leaning heavily against him, Harry slowly walked back to Malfoy's room, where he laid him gently on the bed, wrapping the blankets firmly around him. With one last look at the despondent man, Harry exited the room, shutting it lightly. Outside, he saw Zabini standing there, looking at him with a fierce look in his eyes.

"You're going to help him, right Potter? You're going to get him better? Because I can't stand seeing him like this, and I'll be damned if he doesn't get well again. I'll walk through hell if I have to. I only hope I won't. He is the closest thing I have to family, so you'd better treat him right, and _fix him." _He said with a slightly shaky voice. Harry just nodded, not knowing what else to say. Zabini nodded back, before leaving. Harry stood there for a second, gathering his thoughts, before walking back to the dining hall. In all the excitement with Malfoy, he'd forgotten about his friends.

As he entered the family room, he walked immediately to the table they had been sharing with his friends, and saw that Ginny had arrived while he'd been dealing with Malfoy. Not really feeling up to talking anymore, but not wanting to be rude, he walked over, and kissed his wife reluctantly before sitting down beside Hermione, who was pointedly staring anywhere but at Ron, while he did the same to her. When he sat, she turned toward him with a small frown on her face.

"How is he? I mean, that is why you were gone, yes? To help Malfoy?"

Nodding, he put his face in his hands. "He's... Not good. I can't say anymore, due to Healer patient confidentiality. It's just odd seeing him like that, all small, and scared. He's nothing like the Malfoy we knew. Nothing" Harry said softly, with passion. Hermione nodded sympathetically, while Ron snorted.

"I still say the git deserves it, after all he did to us in school, and what he did to Dumbledore."

Before Hermione could start yelling at him again, Harry stood up, and looked wearily down at his friend. While he loved him like a brother, he could really be tactless and rude sometimes.

"You don't know what he's been through, Ron. I know part of it, and let me tell you, that part isn't pretty. He had it as tough as we did during the war, maybe even worse due to the fact that monster /lived/ in his house. He was just a stupid kid when he did what he did to us, and he was terrified during his task. I won't excuse everything he did, but I don't hold it against him anymore, and I don't think you should either. Now, I'm sorry to cut this meeting short, but I'm feeling tired, and would like to go to bed. Maybe we can meet next Saturday or Sunday." Harry said in a tired voice.

"But Harry, we didn't even talk." Ginny said, looking indignant that he didn't even say hello properly before saying goodbye. Harry grimaced apologetically at her, before walking around the table to wrap his arms around her, kissing her head lightly.

"I'm sorry Gin, I'm just feeling worn out, and not up to company. I'll see you next week, okay?" He asked as he looked down into her eyes. The slight anger in her eyes melted, and she nodded, sighing lightly.

"Alright, Harry. It just seems like we hardly ever spend time together, with you at work most of the day, and me at training... I just miss you."

"I miss you too, luv. But we'll see each other next week, alright?"

"Alright. What should I tell Andromeda? You were going to see her and Teddy today as well, right?"

"Just tell her I'm not feeling well, and that we'll meet next week."

"Alright. Well, bye, Harry."

"Bye Gin. Love you"

"Love you too." With that, she exited, leaving Harry alone with Ron and Hermione once more. Giving Ron a handshake, and Hermione a quick hug, he bid his goodbye to them, and left to his room. Letting out a sigh, he sank down onto his bed, scrubbing his hands over his face. No matter what he did, he couldn't stop thinking about the look on Malfoy's face when he touched him. It was the look of pure terror. Whatever was done to him, it left a mark, and Harry could only pray he could fix it before the three months were done.

His thoughts plagued by the blonde man, Harry fell into a fitful sleep, full of thoughts of torture, and screaming blonde men.

* * *

Author's Note, Part Two: REMEMBER, REVIEW! :D


	6. Withdrawal Hurts

Summary: Draco Malfoy has a problem. Harry Potter is the only one who cares enough to fix it. Will he be able to save Draco from himself? Does Draco even want him to? Broken and lost, he may have no choice. Deals with drug abuse.

Author's Note: I finished another chapter. ._. I hope you like it. I mention more about Draco's withdrawal. I'm not entirely sure where to go next, but I think I'll do the first 'real' counseling thing between Draco and Harry.

Does anyone know how to get a beta? Or would anyone like to be a beta for me? I try to edit as well as I can, but I'm not that good… If you could tell me how to get one, or if you're interested, that'd be great. ^-^ Remember, review!

Disclaimer: I'm tired, so… I own nothing. ^-^

_Beneath the stains of time  
The feelings disappear  
You are someone else  
I am still right here _

-Hurt, by Nine-Inch Nails/Johnny Cash

* * *

Draco sat on his bed, staring at the wall, his face ashen and sunken, trying hard not to go running back to the bathroom to throw up.

If there was one thing he hated most about this place, it was that bathroom. It was small, and cramped, and he spent way too much time in it, either on the toilet, or puking into it.

According to Potter, this was a normal part of withdrawal. This, along with the fevers, cold sweats, runny nose, aches and pains, cravings... It was terrible, and all because Blaise decided he 'cared' about Draco again. Bollocks. All Draco wanted was to be at home, living peacefully numb, but no. That was too good for him. He had to be tortured some more.

After a few minutes, the feeling got to be too much, and he rushed into the bathroom, emptying it of its meager contents. Once finished, he leaned his head against the toilet bowl, shaking lightly. Merlin, he hated being sick. And now-a-days, he was always feeling sick.

The plain wall colour didn't help at all. It was just so empty! Looking around, he couldn't help compare this bathroom to his spacious one at home. For one thing, the wall colour. Instead of this pale, sickly yellow, his bathroom was a regal blue, with white accents. Instead of the puny bathtub and shower, he had a large, Jacuzzi tub, with power shower head, something he had gotten from the muggle world. Instead of this chipped, porcelain toilet, he had a solid silver, state of the art toilet, best money could buy. It just wasn't fair! He was rich, for Merlin's sake! He shouldn't have to be on this floor, leaning his forehead against this dingy, chipped toilet. He was Draco Malfoy, not some random wizard off the street! He deserved better.

_But do you really?_ That voice in his head whispered, causing him to shudder. _After all you've done, isn't this exactly what you deserve, to waste away, forgotten by all, in a little run down rehab clinic?__  
_  
Whimpering slightly, Draco got up off the floor, shaking uncontrollably. Sometimes, for a few moments, he just forgot. Forgot what he is, and just remembered what he _was. _But that voice... That voice always reminded him. Always

Merlin, he hated this. But he deserved it, so he sucked it up, and shakily walked over to the sink, to wipe his face, and rinse his mouth out with water.

Once he was back on his bed, he put his head in his hands. Did he mention how much he hated this? For several long minutes, he sat there, his mind consuming him, reminding him of all the bad he's ever done. _You tormented the other students, made their lives hell just to amuse yourself. You called her a Mudblood, just because you were jealous and bitter. You tried to kill him, just so you could save your own pathetic life. You are worthless, you are nothing. You should have just wasted away, locked up in your castle, far away from the innocent, far away from those you will hurt,_ it whispered, as Draco shook his head, tears welling in his eyes.

_No! _He thought desperately to the voice, _I didn't mean it! I take it back, I take everything back!_

_It's too late. You can never take it back, you can never redeem yourself. You will die alone, hated by everyone. You deserve this._

"No!" He screamed, standing up, and throwing the nearest thing, which happened to be his water jug, against the wall. The crash it made calmed him slightly, as he watched the shards rain down to the ground, shattered like him. He walked over, and picked up one of the shards.

_This is you, _the voice whispered, as he turned the shard over and over in a daze, fascinated by it. _A broken piece of glass, worthless and useless._

As he turned it, the sharp edge accidentally caught his hand, and he gave a sharp inhale as the skin broke, the bright scarlet blood welling up, and spilling out, running down his hand. Pureblood. Something he once was proud of, but now disgusted him, as he thought of all that was done in the name of keeping blood 'pure'

_I'm not the pureblood._ He thought sadly, as a Healer he didn't know popped into the room, having heard the noise. _I'm the Mudblood, the one who is dirt, who has filth in their veins.__  
_  
Distantly, he heard shouts, as the Healer shouted for Potter, before taking the sharp shard out of his hand, and vanishing the others. He could hear someone calling his name, and touching his face, but he couldn't hear, couldn't feel. He felt dazed, and confused, and he just wanted it all to stop. Why wouldn't it stop?

Suddenly, he felt very cold, and he shivered violently, before the cold stopped. Snapped out of his daze, he saw Potter, standing there with his hair more a mess than usual, looking like he just woke up. When Draco looked over at the clock on the wall, he saw it was 2:00 AM. He must have woken Potter up when he shattered the jug.

"Malfoy? Can you hear me? Please, talk to me." He heard him say, his face openly showing concern and worry, confusing Draco. _Why is he worried?_

When he realized Potter was waiting for a response, he nodded slowly, but didn't respond, just stared blankly.

"Malfoy, why did you break the jug? Were you trying to hurt yourself? Nod yes or no."

Draco shook his head, before looking Potter directly in the eyes for a second, before turning away in shame. Taking a deep breath, he said hoarsely.  
"N-no. I just wanted..."

"What? What did you want Draco?"

"I wanted to break it. I wanted... I wanted it to be like me. Broken."

"You're not broken, Draco. You're just a little damaged, but soon you'll be better than new. You're going to be fine." Potter said with conviction, tugging on Draco's arm lightly to bring him toward the bed.

Draco shook his head, but said nothing. He allowed Potter to lead him back to his bed, and sat down, staring blankly at his hands. Someone had healed his hand, as the sting was gone, but the drying scarlet blood remained. It fascinated him. _I've got blood on my hands..._ He thought idly, noting the symbolism. Even though he never killed, he still had their blood on his hands.

He watched as Potter conjured a basin and washcloth, and began to gently wipe the blood off, tinting the water and rag red. He could still smell the copper, even though the blood was no longer there. It reminded him of his days in his dungeon, both as a prisoner, and as a guard, forced to watch as countless Muggles and Muggleborns were tortured. It terrified him, filling him with horror, as the thoughts replay themselves, over and over. He should have done something then. He should have stopped them, he should have... He should have...

He vaguely felt himself being laid down, and didn't register that someone, most likely Potter, had pulled his blanket up and around him, tucking him in slightly, something that hadn't been done since he was a young boy. He didn't feel the soft brush of lips to his forehead, or the whispered, 'Goodnight, Draco'

All he felt was despair, and self-hatred fill him, as he stated at the ceiling, his thoughts consuming him.

~XOXOXOXOXOX~

When dawn broke the next morning, he was still awake. He watched as the sunlight drifted across the room from the tiny window, fidgeting slightly. The light crawled along the ground, his mind finally quiet.

When the clock on the wall said 6:00, Draco got up quickly. He felt restless, and had felt that way all night. It made him wish the doors wouldn't lock from 10:00 PM, until 6:00 AM. It was maddening, being stuck in his room with nothing to do. At least at home he had books. Here, the books were terrible, and were uninteresting.

Walking out of his room, Draco walked directly to the exercise room. He needed to stop being so restless, and since he actually felt decent today, he thought he'd go see the room the aides had told him about on his first full day there. As he looked inside, he felt slightly disappointed. He honestly didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't this small, cramped room, with two machines, one currently in use. Hesitating slightly, Draco walked into the gym, and went up to the treadmill, getting on. He wasn't entirely use to muggle inventions, but after his one year of muggle studies, he at least knew some things, like what a treadmill is.

He set it on low speed, and walked, gradually increasing the speed until he was running. After many minutes, he stopped, panting heavily, and shaking lightly. He probably shouldn't have done that, but he needed to do _something_. As he leaned against the machine, he felt eyes on him, and turned to face the only other person in here, a man with dark blonde, curly hair, fair skin, and dark green eyes. He was about 6'0, and lean. Draco narrowed his eyes in distrust.

"What are you staring at?" He demanded. He had been used to people staring, but after years alone, it unnerved him.

"I'm sorry; I just haven't seen you around here before. I'm Phil; I've been here three weeks." The wizard, Phil, said with a semi-pleasant smile on his face. Draco didn't return it.

"I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy" He said, waiting for the look of disgust to cross this strangers face.

It never came.

"It's nice to meet you Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Phil said with a slight smirk, obviously finding the way he introduced himself funny. Draco was taken aback, not understanding why this person didn't hate him.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked, sure this was just one of those ignorant fools who never paid attention to the news. Everyone hated him.

"Yes. You're Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater." Phil replied, looking at ease. Draco narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"You-you don't care?" He asked disbelievingly.

"Why should I? You're not a Death Eater now, are you? Do you still believe in those things?"

"No! I mean... I'm still a Death Eater. I'm always a Death Eater. You can't just stop being one."

"Do you believe in the things they stood for?"

"No! I never did! I-I had to become a Death Eater!" Draco almost yelled defensively. Phil raised an eyebrow.

"Then why should I care what mark you have on your arm? As long as you don't believe in what they stood for, you're okay in my book." Phil said smoothly, before turning back to his bike to continue his exercises. Draco just stared at him in shock, not knowing what to do. For years, he'd been blamed, been hated, and now someone was saying it was okay? That he wasn't that bad?

Draco stumbled over to one of the chairs they had in the gym so people could rest if they wanted, and put his head in his hands. _Phil must be insane_, Draco thought, shaking his head lightly. That was the only reason he didn't hate Draco. He was utterly mad.

"Hey man, are you alright?" He heard Phil say. "I didn't mean to cause any problems..."

Shaking his head, Draco stood, and nearly ran out of the room. He had to get out. He had to get away from this... Insane person.

Once inside his room, he sank to the floor, his head in his arms. Even though he knew it wasn't true, that Phil either was insane, or was lying, he couldn't help wishing that it was true. That he wasn't so bad, and could be forgiven. But it wasn't true. If he even hoped for a second that he could finally be free, it would destroy him when it turned out he would never be free from this hell. That he would never be forgiven. That he would never /deserve/ to be forgiven. He had to be numb.

Thirty minutes later, he got himself calmed enough, and got up. Walking to the dining hall, he wondered if there would be pancakes today.


	7. Progress

Summary: Draco Malfoy has a problem. Harry Potter is the only one who cares enough to fix it. Will he be able to save Draco from himself? Does Draco even want him to? Broken and lost, he may have no choice. Deals with drug abuse.

Author's Note: I'M NOT DEAD YET. Just felt like saying that. ^-^ Sorry it's been a while to those of you who like this story, I've had really bad writer's block, and it took me forever just to come up with this. ._. It's not the best, but it's all I can come up with. Up next should be a Harry chapter, which usually is easier to write for me. Oh, I brought Phil back. Did you guys like him? I think he'll be a semi-main character.  
Anyway, review! Tell me what you think, please. Even if you hate it, as long as you state why calmly, and rationally, I'll love to hear about it. Thanks Lovelies. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: You know, I really don't have to do this… I mean, this is FANFICTION . net. But, Disclaimers are fun to do. I can write funny ways about why I don't own the story, or why you're insane if you think I do… I kept seeing other writers doing it, and though _why should they have all the fun? _And so here we are. Anyway: I OWN NOTHING. THAT'S IT, NOTHING. NO THINGS ARE OWNED BY ME. THAT IS ALL.

_What have I become  
My sweetest friend  
Everyone I know goes away  
In the end_

-Hurt, by Nine Inch Nails/Johnny Cash.

* * *

"Potter for the last time, I'm not telling you my fucking life story." the irritable Blond said, as he laid down on the too cushy chair. Harry looked down at him, unamused.

"Malfoy, you want to get out of here, right? Well, then you need to actually t_alk_ to me. Every meeting, you manage to avoid talking about your past, either by wasting both our time by complaining about the food or beds, or by simply ignoring me! It's been two weeks, Draco, and it's time to start talking to me. I only want to get you better, I won't tell anyone, I promise!" Harry said with exasperation, rubbing his temples in hopes of ridding himself of the migraine he knew was coming. He always got migraines during his meetings with Draco.

Draco looked away from Harry, his jaw set, trying to find a way out of this. A minute passed, before he heard Harry sigh.

"Malfoy, please? I want you to get better, and just sitting here won't help you. Maybe-maybe you could close your eyes, and pretend I'm someone else? Someone you trust?" Harry asked, obviously at his wits end.

"I trust no one, Potter, so that wouldn't work."

"What about Blaise? Surely you trust him, he's your best friend, is he not?" Harry asked in confusion. He watched the blond, who started fidgeting, with a scowl on his face.

"I once thought I could trust him, but he betrayed me. I don't trust anyone." Draco said darkly, his eyes cold and hard. Harry frowned, picking up his pen, ready to start writing.

"And just how did he betray you?"

Draco's head shot up, and he glared at Harry, scowl still on his face.

"Don't think I don't know what you are doing, Potter. I'm not telling you anything, which is final." Draco spat. Harry sighed, and started rubbing his temples once more.

"Malfoy, I'm not here to hurt you. I'm just trying to help." After seeing the Blonde's expression hadn't changed, Harry changed tactics. "How's this; tell me what you meant about Blaise, and I'll convince Mrs. Masters to get you a new mattress. I know how much you hate your current one, since that's all you ever talk about." He said drily, looking at Draco expectantly.

"You're bribing me, Potter?" Draco asked with a raised eyebrow, a small smirk on his face, the first one in years. "Isn't that against the Mind-Healer code?"

"If it gets you to talk, it'll be worth it. Now, are we agreed?"

A few moments later, Draco said, "I'm not easily bought, Potter. Get me the new mattress, and a box of Honeydukes Best Chocolate, and you've got yourself a deal."

"Fine. Now, talk." Harry said, feeling tired, but smug. It had been a long two weeks, as he tried unsuccessfully to coax Draco into talking. It didn't help that whenever the former Slytherin did something reminiscent of his old self, he got a funny twist in his stomach. He decided it was just the feeling of success.

With a sigh, Draco fidgeted lightly, before he began to talk.

"I've known Blaise for years, ever since we were children. He is the closest thing I've got to a brother. In our sixth year, I shut everyone out. Everyone but him. I had tried to, but he kept pushing me, until I finally told him everything. I told him all about my-my task, and how terrified I was, and how I never wanted to be a Death Eater, and how I secretly wished you'd defeat Him, making everything better again. I foolishly thought he'd never tell anyone, but shortly after my failed task, _They_ came to me, and during my-my _punishments_, they taunted me with things I'd only told Blaise, things no one else could ever know, since I am an advanced occlumens, and nothing can penetrate my mind. I trusted him, and he made me a fool. I won't be doing it again."

"Draco, I wouldn't do that to you. For one, I can't. To become a Healer, you have to take an oath, swearing to not reveal anything regarding your patient, no matter what, only to other Healers when handing over cases or receiving help. I literally cannot repeat anything you say to me to anyone else, even if I wanted to, which I don't. The only way I could terminate the oath is if you tell about a plan to harm or kill others. That is it. So, please just stop being stubborn, and talk to me. I am only here to help." Harry said calmly, his frustration subsiding slightly with Draco's small bit of personal information.

Draco stared at Harry for a minute, before finally saying;

"The wall colour is truly horrible, Potter. You should get someone around change it. Personally, I enjoy a pale blue colour."

Harry groaned.

~XOXOXOXOXOX~

Draco stared at the wall, already bored after only five minutes since the meeting started. After the meeting opener from the too cheery counselor/aide, they were forced to listen to the problems the other idiot's here were having, coping without their poisons of choice. _Just quit whining already. No one cares. _Draco thought agitatedly. In the two weeks he had been here, the group meetings were his least favorite thing he had to deal with. Every meeting they'd ask him about how he 'felt,' and how he was dealing with everything. No matter how far he had fallen, he would never be a sissy who'd talk about his 'feelings.'

Currently, he was listening to some pansy tell how hard things had been for him as a boy, and how alcohol was the only solution to his pain. Every week this guy told the same story, changing the names and what he had done. Just the other day, he'd said how he stole over a thousand galleons worth of things, and today he said that it was his brother who did it, not him. While funny, listening to the same story, changed slightly each meeting had gotten boring.

"Does that guy ever shut up?" He heard someone whisper into his ear. Starting, he turned to face the person who talked, and saw it was the same man he'd met in the gym two weeks ago. He mentally groaned. After that first meeting, Phil wouldn't leave him alone. He sat with him in the lunchroom, sat beside him in the recreation room while he played the guitar they allowed him to have, or while playing the piano in the room. No matter where he went, Phil was there, and he was getting sick of it. He even told him, quite frequently, he didn't like him, yet Phil was persistent. Draco couldn't figure out why, other than he was insane, or evil.

"Apparently not." Draco whispered back tersely.

Apparently, he hadn't whispered softly enough, because soon enough, all eyes were on him. He mentally groaned again.

"Mr. Malfoy, is there something you'd like to share with the rest of the group?" The aide asked him sweetly, masking the disgust she felt for him. He knew she did hate him, and it wasn't just his paranoia. Mainly because she told him after a meeting, saying how he was scum, and how people like him ought to be locked up for what they did to her husband. At least he knew people still cared.

"No, Overlord Fluffy, there is nothing I'd like to share with the group." He said coolly, enjoying the way her face turned red with anger. He'd started calling her Overlord Fluffy right after she made sure everyone in the group knew of his past the first day, all in the name of being 'open, and friendly, with no secrets among the group.' _Right_, he scoffed. _Like people don't know what I am. _It also didn't hurt that her hair was even fluffier than Granger's had ever been, even on a bad day.

"I thought I told last time it is not nice to insult people." She said through gritted teeth.

"Yes, well, I'm not a nice man, now am I? I'm just a lowly Death Eater, a ne'er-do-well, isn't that correct?"

"How right you are, Mr. Malfoy." She said in a clipped tone, glaring daggers at Draco. "All you are is a pathetic, worthless, junkie Death Eater, and you will never be anything more than that!"

"Ms. Hill!" A sharp, feminine voice called from the door, freezing Overlord Fluffy. Draco smirked slightly as he saw the owner of the place standing in the doorway. "We do not say those things to patients here! Come with me right now. All of you are dismissed for now."

Overlord Fluffy glared at Draco as she walked out of the room, and Draco continued smirking. It was nice to know that even after years of solitude he could push people's buttons. He had stopped letting people like her bother him years ago. Now, all he felt was numbness whenever someone told him how evil he was.

Getting up, he left for his room, ignoring Phil's attempt at talking to him. _At least there was some entertainment today. _He thought to himself, sitting in his room, where his thoughts started consuming him, telling him all those nasty things that he could never forget. But, for just one afternoon, he was normal. He considered it progress.


	8. The Pointless Conflict

Summary: Draco Malfoy has a problem. Harry Potter is the only one who cares enough to fix it. Will he be able to save Draco from himself? Does Draco even want him to? Broken and lost, he may have no choice. Deals with drug abuse.

Author's Note: So… Hi! It's, uh… been a while. How are you? Okay, enough formalities. I'm sorry it's been a while. .-. Truth be told, I've had this chapter, and the next(Which is also the last) Done for a month+ now. Why haven't I posted them, you ask? … I hate them, that's why. These two chapters seem rushed to me, and sloppy at best. I was rushing to just end this, so I could just be done with writing. I have periods of time, when I want to write, and when I don't. Recently, I've been in a "Don't" period. But, I didn't want this story to not be finished. So I wrote these two chapters. And I hate them. *Sighs* I wanted to do more with this story, but it is what it is. I hope you don't hate the ending too much. Please note I didn't edit either chapter much, so there may be many mistakes. Feel free to point them out. So… Enjoy. Or don't. It's up to you. ._.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not even the computer I'm writing this on. My parents own that.

_And you could have it all  
My empire of dirt  
I will let you down  
I will make you hurt _

-Hurt, by Nine-Inch Nails/ Johnny Cash

* * *

The world was a cruel place. Harry had figured that out back when he was just a boy, being forced to live in a cupboard for no reason over than he was a bit different.

Over the years, he had grown used to the cruelty. Getting shunned first year for losing all those points, getting called the Heir of Slytherin just because he could somehow talk to snakes. Some of the cruelest things to happen to him were when Sirius and Dumbledore died, though. They were his mentors, and he loved them, like the parents he never had. Losing all those people because of a madman... So yes, it was safe to say Harry Potter was no stranger to the cruelness of life.

But as he stared at the picture of his wife, the one he kept telling himself he loved, with another man... He had thought he was over feeling this type of pain.

The worst thing was, as he stared at the picture on the front page of the Daily Profit, article titled, "WIFE OF HARRY POTTER FOUND CHEATING WITH ANOTHER MAN. THE WIZARDING WORLD ASKS WHY?" all he felt was numb, and maybe a touch relieved. _At least I won't have to keep forcing myself to love her...  
_  
It still hurt though, to have to find out this way, by a cheap newspaper. He had thought that if nothing else, he and Ginny were friends. He didn't get why she'd keep something like this away from him...

Sighing, he folded the paper, and put it down. Getting up, he tried to prepare himself for the commotion he would get from his fellow Healers. He was very grateful Hermione had sent him this. Usually, he never got the Profit, ever since the war.

He quickly took his shower, and dressed, but stopped right before leaving the room. _Don't be a wuss, Potter. You've faced the Dark Lord and won. Facing the pity filled faces of colleagues is nothing. Now get your sorry excuse of a wizard self out there. _Decided to ignore the fact his mind had decided to take on the persona of the Draco Malfoy he knew in school, he followed the advice, and exited his room, hoping his day wasn't going to go as badly as he thought it might.

~XoXoXoXoXoXoX~

The only thing he could say about the day was it wasn't as bad as he had thought it would be.

It was much, much worse.

It had started once he left his room for breakfast. The stares followed him everywhere, from colleagues to the occasional patient who had the privilege of getting the paper each morning. If there was one thing Harry Potter hated, it was pity.

Then, during breakfast itself, people kept coming up to him, telling him they were sorry for what Ginny had done, and if he needed anything, he need only to ask.

The worst thing was when Mrs. Masters took him aside and asked if he needed time off, for a couple of days. He kindly told her he was fine, but it still annoyed him. Relationships fell apart every day. It wasn't anything special.

Sighing, he silently opened the door to one of his patients to make sure they were sleeping well with no nightmares. Seeing the patient sleeping peacefully, he checked off their name, and looked to the last name, though he knew who it was. With a strangely fast beating heart, Harry opened the last room on his list, and saw the blinding white hair of his former enemy.

In the almost month since he started working here, and first saw Draco in over four years, he found himself almost looking forward to the time he spent with Draco. In the past two weeks, he had made great progress, and was now coherent when talked to. He still hated to be touched, and refused to talk about anything related to himself, but Harry felt that the blond had made tremendous progress, and he couldn't feel prouder, which made him feel confused. He didn't understand why he even cared. He always put it off as guilt for not saving him when he had the chance, but some days, he just didn't know. It didn't explain his wildly beating heart whenever Draco made a sarcastic comment or that weird feeling in his gut that he refused to think about whenever he saw that smirk. It was madness, and it freaked him out. Because while he pretended ignorance, Harry Potter was not an idiot, and he could see the signs. But nothing good ever would come out of it, so he ignored it the best he could.

"Hello Potter. Nightly checkup already? Didn't realize it was so late." The young Malfoy said, as he flicked through a book about potions. Harry felt his heart beat even more rapidly, and the tightening of his trousers as he took in the casual manner the blond was laying, his hair mussed slightly. Pushing aside his emotions, Harry responded.

"It's nearly 3:00 Malfoy. What is the matter, can't sleep, or...?" Harry trailed off, feeling slightly awkward.

Draco looked up at him with an annoyed expression.

"Not that it is any of your business, Potter, but it was a little of both. I tried to sleep, but the memories..." Draco took a deep breath, and continued, "So I decided to try my hand at reading. Though it might work better if I hadn't read this book a hundred times already. You really should get me new books, Potter. Otherwise I might start thinking you want me to die of boredom." Draco drawled, flipping the page casually. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Of course, your majesty. I'll get right on it. Along with the million other requests you have made." He replied, the sarcasm heavy. Draco looked up, and smirked, his eyes twinkling, making Harry's gut flutter.

"Make sure of it, peasant. Wouldn't want anyone to know how badly you mistreat your patients. Honestly, giving someone this garbage to read." He shook his head mockingly.

"Oh shut it, Malfoy. You're one of the better kept patients here, and you know it. Now, is there anything you need right now, or will you be fine for the night?"

"No, I don't need anything." He paused, and looked up at Harry through his eye lashes, in what Harry could have sworn was a shy manner. "Perhaps I could use some company?" He finished his request as a question, raising an eyebrow at Harry in inquiry.

Feeling his heart leap into his throat, Harry shrugged. Coughing slightly, he spoke after a few seconds of trying to calm his emotions.

"As long as you don't mind the company being mine, sure."

"Trust me Potter, I don't mind."

Harry didn't know if it was the words, or the way he said it, but Harry felt his temperature rising once more, and he cursed his hormones, having not been laid in over a month, which left him craving release. He was only human. Taking a seat in the chair next to Draco's bed, he angled himself so the bulge in his pants wasn't too noticeable.

A few seconds passed in an awkward silence, until Draco broke it.

"So, I heard about you and the Weaselette. Care to share?" He asked in a mild drawl, looking at Harry with hooded eyes.

Harry inhaled quickly, and shut his eyes. Why couldn't he have just left that topic alone? Of course he chose the one topic Harry desperately didn't want to talk about. "No, Malfoy, I do not 'care to share.' It's none of your business." Harry snapped, his anger at the day, and at being asked the same question over and over getting beyond tiresome.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Potter, I was just curious. The article in the Profit left a lot of holes."

"And, what, you wanted to know so you could make fun of me? Just go ahead Malfoy, I really don't care what you think of me. You always were just a bully." Harry said nastily, though instantly regretted it at the look of hurt on the young blond's face, which changed smoothly into an emotionless facade. He didn't even know why he had said it in the first place, only the fact that he was tired, had had a terrible day, and was currently feeling extremely sexually frustrated coming to mind. But that didn't mean it was right to say, and he knew he had hurt the man in front of him deeply, despite it being one of the milder things he had said to him in the years they were acquainted.

"No, Potter, I was just trying to be a friend. I can see I shouldn't have bothered. I had thought you saw me differently. But I was wrong. You're just like everyone else. I think you should go now. I'm feeling tired." With that, the blond turned his back on Harry, pulling his blankets up as high as he could without covering his head. Harry's heart clenched painfully, wanting to make it better, but not knowing how. As he looked at the blond, he couldn't decide what was worse. That brief look of pain and betrayal on his face, or that closed off tone he had used while addressing Harry.

"Malfoy..."

"Go away Potter. I'm trying to sleep, and I can't do that while you're standing there. So just go."

Looking sadly down at the man who had found a way to creep into his heart, completely undetected until it was too late, he stood, and walked towards the door. Right before he exited, he looked back.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said. I know it's no excuse, but I was just mouthing off. I know you're not the person you were at school, but sometimes it's easier to remember who you were, than who you are. I do see you differently, Draco. And that's what scares me." After a moment of silence, Harry slipped out of the room, and started walking back to his own, his feelings jumbled, and confused.


	9. Resolution

Summary: Draco Malfoy has a problem. Harry Potter is the only one who cares enough to fix it. Will he be able to save Draco from himself? Does Draco even want him to? Broken and lost, he may have no choice. Deals with drug abuse.

Author's Note: This chapter has not been edited at all. Please note any mistakes, kindly if you could. See previous chapter for reasons of why I've not written in a while.

PLEASE NOTE I POSTED TWO CHAPTERS. IF YOU ONLY GOT ONE NOTIFICATION, MAKE SURE YOU CHECK OUT CHAPTER 8 FIRST.

_If I could start again  
A million miles away  
I would keep myself  
I would find a way_

-Hurt, by Nine-Inch Nails/ Johnny Cash

* * *

Harry was at his wits end as he stared in frustration at the blond man currently sitting in front of him.

It had been a few days since his lashing out at the blond, yet still he wouldn't talk. Harry understood that he hurt his feelings, but he didn't know what he could do to make up for it. It made his heart ache when Draco wouldn't even look at him, let alone talk. He was use to idle chit chat during their meetings, since Draco refused to talk about the past. But today, and for the past two, all there was was silence. Harry would try to start up a conversation, but Draco wouldn't even give the courtesy of responding. He knew he deserved it, but it still hurt.

"Draco, please, talk to me. I've said I'm sorry, what more do you want from me?!" The brunette boy suddenly exclaimed, making his companion in the room jump slightly.

Glaring lightly, Draco replied, "For you to drop dead?"

Groaning into his hands, Harry closed his eyes, and clutched his hair.

"Did you know you are a stubborn ass?" Harry asked wearily.

"I've been told that."

Harry felt his heart clench once more, as he looked at the way the blond refused to look at him, keeping his eyes set firmly on a stain on the wall. Harry didn't know why he cared so much, but he hated the fact Draco was mad at him. It made his stomach hurt for all the wrong reasons. And so, he made up his mind and decided to do something that could either work out brilliantly, or fail spectacularly. Gathering his Gryffindor courage, he stood, and walked the short distance between the two men, and sat beside Draco, letting his hand settle on the Blond's thigh. He saw Draco look down at the hand in shock, before looking into Harry's eyes in confusion. Taking a deep breath, Harry began to speak.

"I know you're mad at me, and you have good reason. You didn't deserve what I said. It wasn't true, and I wish I could take it back, but I can't. I really didn't mean it, so please just forgive me. Please." Harry begged, pleading with his eyes. Draco looked at him for a second, before turning away, and scoffing.

"You really don't get it, do you? Potter, I could care less what it was you said, or if you meant it or not. The problem is that /you're/ the one who said it."

"What? What do you mean?"

Draco gave Harry an unimpressed look, before sighing.

"I have had my share of insults. Either saying them, or getting called them. In that time, I've learned to get a pretty thick skin, not letting what people say about me effect me much. Sure, it hurts, but only if I let it. Only if who said it matters. The reason what you said hurt was not because of what you said, but because of the fact you said it, after having spent so much time trying to tell me I'm not what I was. /That/ is my problem."

Harry was silent for a while, before squeezing Draco's leg slightly.

"I'm sorry. There is nothing else I can say but I'm sorry."

"Then I suggest we don't have anything to say to each other."

Another moment of silence passed, before Harry looked up at Draco in confusion. Something he had said stuck out to him, and he didn't understand. A part of him hoped it meant what he thought it did, but...

"Why do you even care about what I say?"

"What?"

"You said it only hurts if the person who says it matters. Since when do I matter to you? I never did before, did I? Why did what I say hurt you so much?"

"Potter..."

"Malfoy..."

"Leave it, Potter. You just do."

"So you admit it, I do matter to you? Why? Is it because I'm your Healer? Just answer me why."

"Why can't you just leave it? It doesn't matter!"

"It does to me. /Why?/"

"Why? Why? Because I'm in love with you, you ninny, that's why! I'm in love with you, and have been for so long I barely even remember a time I wasn't. You were always there, taunting me. You were the one thing I could never have, and that only made me want you more. Even when we were fighting, I wanted you so badly. But you hated me, and it hurt. I had burned our bridges long before, so all I could do was go along with the script we already had set into motion, and try to ignore the way you'd make me feel, how much I wanted to just snog you breathless. When I saw you were my counselor, I had thought that you would be like everyone else. That you'd hate me. When you didn't, when you treated me like normal... I can't describe the way I felt. To know you didn't hate me, even though you had more of a right than anyone..." He shook his head slightly, and ran a slightly shaky hand through his hair. "It was miraculous." He whispered, almost to himself.

"Then, when I try and be a friend, even though I'm not really sure what friends do other than drag the other to rehab, you throw it into my face. I had thought you cared, but that just reminded me of who you are, and why you're here. We're not friends. You're my Healer, and I'm your patient. Nothing more."

Harry looked at Draco with wide eyes, his mouth slightly open as he took in what the blond had said. When he finally could process properly, he felt something akin to awe, and wonder pass through him. He had never in a million years expected to hear what he just heard. And he couldn't help that damned fluttering in his chest and gut that was turning into a tornado.

"Y-you love me?" Harry asked, wanting to make sure he had heard right, and he hadn't just imagined it. Draco looked at him, his face guarded.

"Yes. I do. Merlin only knows why, but I do." There was a a few seconds of silence, until Draco broke it once more.

"So, you going to make fun of me? Call me a pouf, and a ponce, and tell me how you could never feel anything but hatred for a person like me? Go ahead Potter, do your-"

Whatever the blond was about to say got cut off, as Harry finally got over his stupor, and decided to throw caution to the wind, and just kiss the rambling man, the happiness he felt nearly unbearable.

Eyes wide, it took Draco a minute to realize what was happening, but when he did, he put his arms around the brunette, and pulled him close, closing his eyes in pleasure. Even if it was just this one kiss, he would get the most out of it.

The kiss lasted for a while, as the two devoured each other, years of sexual tension and longing finally being let out at last. When the kiss finally ended, Draco found himself half laying on top of Harry, whose glasses were **eschew** and hair was more disheveled than usual. Draco couldn't help but smirk, his eyes shining with a happiness he hadn't felt in years. Leaning back down, he gently kissed the green eyed brunette, trying to savor the moment in case it never happened again. Or it was just a very realistic dream.

"Wow." Harry muttered against Draco's lips, one hand in the Blond's hair, the other on his hip.

"Wow is right. You're an even better kisser than I imagined, Potter." He said, his smirk widening, as he gently nipped Harry's bottom lip. He could feel Harry's moan, which made him even happier, knowing he wasn't the only one affected.

It was a long while until they stopped, but it was only because Harry reminded Draco that their session was almost out of time. Breathless, and wanting, both boys pulled reluctantly apart, eyes hungrily feasting on the disheveled look of the other. If it hadn't have been for the little ding! that represented the end of the session, they would have started up their passionate snogging session once more.

Standing, Draco ran a hand down his clothes to straighten them out, and another through his hair to tame the wild locks.

"Well, I can't say I didn't enjoy this, and dearly wish I didn't have to go, but if I don't, I have a feeling we won't be leaving this room for a long long time. So, see you next meeting, Scarhead." With one last smirk in Harry's direction, Draco sauntered off, leaving a softly smiling Harry in his wake.

So maybe life wasn't perfect. Maybe the world would show it's cruel face, and split the two up. But for now, as long as Harry had Draco, he felt something right click into place, something he never had with Ginny, or Cho, or anyone else. It wouldn't be a smooth ride, or a very pretty one. They were both volatile people when they wished to be, and so they would fight. They would make each other scream, and cry, and wonder why they even care. But Harry knew it would work. They would have to overcome many of Draco's fears and insecurities, and many of his own, but they would do it. So he wasn't quite sure he was in love with Draco. He knew that in time, he could learn to love him. And it wouldn't be like with Ginny, where he practically forced himself to love her. No. He already had the foundation of love with Draco, could feel the beginnings of it in his heart. All he had to do was nurture it, and one day it would be clear.

As he left the meeting room, Harry felt like he could soar.

And to think, this all started with a boy who was hurt so much by life, he just needed an escape, and a boy who hid his feelings from the everyone, including himself.

~Fin~

Author's Note Two: So, I decided it to end it here. I may, someday, add an epilogue, or, if I get inspired(I probably won't) a equal. Most likely the epilogue, since I do want to clear things up. But it won't be anytime soon. I hope this wasn't too disappointing as an end. Tell me what you think. :-) ~DracoMalfoy456~


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